


Blown

by Sokerchick



Category: NCIS
Genre: Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 01:05:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12399921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sokerchick/pseuds/Sokerchick
Summary: What would it take to make Gibbs retire from NCIS?  Catastrophe.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted to my FF.Net account and I'm moving it here. Hope you all enjoy! I love hearing comments.

The suspect had been a pain in the ass from the get go. The guy was paranoid, probably high and damn hard to track down. The team had finally gotten a break by talking to one of the local D.C. narcotics police officers who had some known associates on file. One of which had been recently busted for possession. The guy’s supposed friend had flipped for a deal.

Gibbs always rankled at making deals with criminals. He liked to bust them outright and then nail them to a handy wall. In this case, however, he was willing to make an exception. Metro narcotics had brokered the arrangement that let the guy in for possession off on a much lighter sentence in exchange for information about Robert Groves. Groves had left some DNA on his victim, a Chief Petty Officer who he had robbed and murdered. Abby had enough evidence to tentatively link Groves to the scene based on fingerprints. With a DNA match to seal the deal the MCRT team could send the scum in to jail for a long, long time on the robbery and murder of an enlisted man who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

All that, had led to this. Gibbs was on foot racing after the suspect. DiNozzo, was about 10 yards behind him sporting an impressive shiner. This guy had weaseled his way out of their custody once and Gibbs was determined to make sure it didn’t happen again. 

Groves cut to his right and skidded around a corner with Gibbs less than 20 steps behind. Unfortunately that was enough time for the man in question to locate a piece of discarded and broken two by four leaning against the brick wall. As Gibbs turned in hot pursuit Groves swung as hard as he could and a horrible crack-pop sound reverberated down the alley as the lumber made contact with Gibbs’ weak right knee.

The addict wasn’t a genius and hadn’t taken into account physics or geometry. The angle he took Gibbs’ leg out from under him meant the NCIS Agent was still moving straight at the suspect. Gibbs tucked his shoulder and barreled straight into the man he was chasing with a bellowing yell. 

DiNozzo picked up speed and reached the scene just a few seconds behind to find that in his surprise the suspect hadn’t resisted being flipped over onto his stomach by a still mostly prone Gibbs who was now reaching for hand cuffs behind his back. Rolling into a sitting position Gibbs watched as DiNozzo first patted down, then hauled the suspect to his feet. In the meanwhile, with his agent’s back turned, Gibbs slid over to the brick wall which offered up the cool comfort of its support. Slowly, using only his left leg and arms Gibbs attained vertical while the suspect, who seemed to have finally realized his predicament, struggled and managed to distract the normally observant senior field agent.

Finally, Ziva David and Timothy McGee skidded into the scene. McGee seemed out of breath but the Israeli agent maintained her air of calm. 

“Good of you to join us.” DiNozzo seemed equally out of breath from dealing with the struggling suspect.

“We were detained. We attempted to do an end over and found ourselves instead in a dead end.”

“She means end around.” Replied McGee automatically which earned him a glare. “We were trying to go up another alley but turned too soon.”

“David, McGee. Escort our esteemed guest to a holding cell,” ordered Gibbs from where he was propped against the wall.

Ziva quickly stepped forward and relieved Tony of his burden. The trio then turned and walked back towards the car the two agents had arrived on scene in. 

“DiNozzo, go get our car.” Gibbs and DiNozzo had arrived separately and the intimation that DiNozzo would be driving a car that Gibbs was going to be in caused him to do a double take. He looked his boss up and down and made a mental note that the wall was doing much more propping up than he had first realized.

DiNozzo’s could never said to be suicidal though so his only response was, “on it Boss.”

Minutes later the car arrived with the passenger door closest to Gibbs for which the agent was silently thankful. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to make the one hop step as it was. Going around to the other side was out of the question. Leaning away from the wall planting his left hand on the roof of the car for support Gibbs cautiously opened the door of the Charger before swiveling on his good leg and perching himself on the edge of the seat then swiveling his legs inside. Even that small motion sent a massive jolt of pain up his leg the likes of which he hadn’t felt since the first time he was blown up and the knee was originally injured. The older agent closed his eyes against the pain while the younger one became increasingly worried.

The drive back to the Navy Yard was uneventful and DiNozzo’s only attempt at conversation, an inquiry as to their destination in the hope that his boss’s response would be a hospital, was shot down with a glare. Tony turned the music on just loud enough to be able to hear it and give them an excuse not to talk.

Pulling into the garage DiNozzo cut the engine. “Go.”

“Are you sure Boss? I can go get someone.”

“I’m fine, go.”

Reluctantly DiNozzo put his hand on the interior door handle and glanced again at the silver-haired man. A glare. He pulled the handle and made a bee-line for the morgue. If the Bossman wanted to get pissed he was willing to face those consequences. Gibbs was scary but if Ducky found out one of the team was trying to hide an injury he was a force to be reckoned with.

Gibbs sighed and leaned his head back against the headrest. His knee was fucked and he knew it but he couldn’t admit that to DiNozzo yet. He flipped open his thrice-damned cell phone and pressed the numbers for autopsy.

So it was that when Tony burst into autopsy, as much as one can burst with automatic sliding doors, he found Ducky pulling a pair of crutches from the supply cabinet already preparing to make a visit up to the garage.

“Ah, Anthony. Unfortunately, I must ride to the rescue of our fearless leader at the moment. Although don’t think I will not find you to take a look at that eye. Always into trouble you are.” 

DiNozzo spun around as Dr. Mallard bustled past him and the snap-hiss of the doors left him alone and stunned. He pressed a cautious hand to his right eye and flinched. He’d forgotten about the punch and resulting contusion in the melee. Gibbs was in good hands and obviously hadn’t wanted his help. The only thing left to do was nail the bastard who’d attacked two federal agents that day. 

Ducky found Gibbs once again perched on the edge of the seat with his legs out of the car. He carefully adjusted the crutches to the correct height but knowingly set them out of Gibbs’ reach ignoring the obvious give me gesture being made by the impatient waves of his hand.

“Jethro what have you done? I must take a look. You’re not going anywhere until I see the damage that’s been wrought this time. The last physical showed both your ACL and MCL hanging on by tender threads so you can imagine my concern.”

“Duck no. Just give me the crutches. I’ll go to the hospital after we finish this. We’ve got the guy and by now Abby’s got the DNA that her machines will match to the blood on the scene. I saw the cuts in this guy’s knuckles when I was cuffing him. He beat that Petty Officer to death and got what!? A hundred bucks? Is that what a man’s life is worth?”

“You’ve said it yourself the evidence will prove out. It is completely unnecessary for you to traipse up to interrogation. Young Anthony can handle it.”

Gibbs leaned his shoulder and head against the open door frame looking the most defeated Ducky had seen him in quite some time. The next words out of his mouth were even more alarming. “He’s going to have to. My knee is done Ducky. I felt the whole thing go. Snap. Crackle. Pop.”

“Come now Jethro perhaps it isn’t all that bad. Let us get you to the hospital where we can get a better look.”

Resignedly Gibbs swung his feet back into the car.


	2. Chapter 2

Hearing the words made it worse. Despite his comments to his friend somewhere small in the back of Gibbs’ mind he held on to the hope that this injury wouldn’t be the end of things. That somehow he would get to return to the field. 

At nearly 60 years of age he was approaching the mandatory field retirement age rapidly and a third knee surgery followed by two to three months of recovery before he would even be able to fully bear weight on it and walk normally, let alone run, wasn’t going to improve matters. The prognosis was in. Full tears to both the ACL and MCL. The meniscus in his right knee that had been nearly non-existent before was now in complete shambles. The jig, quite literally, was up.

The surgery was scheduled for two days hence. It would give him enough time to hobble into the office on crutches and turn in his extended medical leave papers which would be replaced with retirement papers as soon as his medical leave and benefits ran out. 

Gibbs sighed. There was nothing doing. No point in dwelling on it now. He would figure things out, like what he was going to do with himself in retirement after the surgery. Never mind that at one point he hadn’t expected to live much past Shannon and Kelly’s death or that he had fully expected to be killed in the line of duty before he was shipped off to some retirement home to drool on himself. He’d cross that bridge when he got to it. First things first, tell Ducky who could then pass the message onto his team.

As it happened his expert skills at using crutches weren’t much needed. Ducky was waiting right outside the exam room where the death knell of his career had issued from. Never a man of many words Gibbs merely glanced at his long-time friend confirming the Scotsman’s fears.

“Oh Jethro I’m so terribly sorry.”

“Had to happen sometime Duck.”

“And the surgery?”

“Two days.”

“So soon? Generally the doctors wait for the swelling to dissipate before moving on to surgery. Surely it doesn’t need to happen so quickly. Perchance if only part of the ligaments were torn…”

Gibbs cut him off with a harsh dose of reality. “It’s over Duck. Full tears. I’m retiring.”

Sighing his despair the doctor once more tried for a brave face, “come now. Let’s get you home.”

“No. Take me to the yard. I’m going to submit the paperwork and I need to talk to Vance and the team.”

“You won’t wait on this? You can’t be convinced to push out the surgery. The healing will go much more smoothly if you wait a few days. It’ll make the surgery faster and the scar much smaller.”

The growl that issued from the taller man’s throat resounded in a deep bass. “Doesn’t matter Duck. I won’t be using the damn thing to do anything useful anyway.”

Knowing he was defeated Ducky quietly acquiesced allowing his Gibbs to brood in silence and turned toward the exit to drive his friend to face his uncertain future.


	3. Chapter 3

The team was in the bullpen when Gibbs emerged from Vance’s office. The Director had offered his agent a solemn handshake but had understood the situation. He wasn’t so sure about the group he was looking down at now.

DiNozzo sat with his feet propped up on his desk and hands behind his head as if he hadn’t a care in the world. An unexpected pang of sorrow flitted through Gibbs breast. Using the crutches he wouldn’t have a free hand. It would be harder to keep his Senior Field Agent in line without the customary strike that usually got the man to sit up and take notice. Gibbs was glad to see the relaxed look on the man’s face. Barring any other traits he knew DiNozzo wouldn’t rest until he got his man and that look meant he had moved past the case. Groves was done for.

Ziva was looking at her partner with a wry glance, in response to some absurd comment Tony had just made. McGee was shaking his head staring intently at his monitor, likely typing up the last report Gibbs would have to sign as his boss. Abby was leaned against his own desk. Her hands flying through the air as she unconsciously threw about half formed signs trying to explain something to the team.

At the ding of the elevator the whole team popped up like a meerkat den on high alert. Ducky must have given them the heads up that he was in the building. The medical examiner was nowhere to be seen, likely out of a keen sense of self-preservation. Abby, who had been the first to pop up had spotted him moving with a grace acquired through more leg injuries than he’d care to admit. Steadily he made his way toward them as she tottered in his direction on 4 inch platform boots yelling his name all the while.

“Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs. Ducky said you were hurt.” She came to a screeching halt right in front of him before carefully but firmly wrapping her arms around his midsection and tucking her head into the crook of his neck. It seemed she was being careful not to overbalance him for which he was grateful. He may be good on crutches but even two knee surgeries, a broken tibia and a severely twisted ankle a time or two wasn’t enough to prepare a man for 120 pounds of hyper Goth barreling into him at warp speed.

“Oh my gosh, come sit down. Tony roll your chair over here. Campfire! Give the seat to Gibbs, can’t you see he hurt his knee?!” Talking a mile a minute and once again waving her arms around Abby was giving orders with the best of them.

“Belay that DiNozzo.” A calm in the center of the storm. The team’s anchor. He had to do this but it wasn’t going to be easy. “I can’t stay long. I just need to talk to you all.”

The team gathered solemnly in the middle of their set of desks. Gibbs took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a heartbeat to center himself. “I’ve had an MRI and talked with the doctor and Vance. I’m going out on medical leave after which I’m retiring.” Despite the bustling office a pin would have been heard dropping and his feet. It was if their shock and confusion had somehow created a vacuum in which no sound could be heard nor a breath taken.

“No.” Abby’s voice sounded out with a surety no one felt. “You can’t break up the team. You can’t break up our family.”

It was a low blow though she didn’t realize it, too absorbed with the idea of losing the only father she’d known for the last 10 years. There was nothing Gibbs held dearer than family and this merry band of misfits was, for better or worse, the one he had. Ziva saw the flash of pain move across his features like a bolt of lightning, stark and bright but so fast and you would blink and miss it. She stepped in and embraced him carefully.

“I am sorry Gibbs. You will be missed but you are always welcome here. We wish you the best. When is your surgery?”

Gibbs nearly choked up at her calm, quiet acceptance and it leant him some strength where Abby’s words had nearly taken his feet out from under him. “In two days.”

“Then we will be there, all of us. To ensure doctors do a good job and that you are well.”

Taking his cue from Ziva, Tim held out his hand which Gibbs took after some adjusting of weight on his crutches. “You need anything you call us. Day or night Boss.” Gibbs nodded his head in acknowledgement.

Tony held out his own hand and once taken drew his mentor into a one-armed hug. “Same here Boss.” The elevator dinged and Ducky appeared. Gibbs extricated himself from the circle of people and glanced at his desk the things he wanted to take with him were standing in the middle of the room. He turned from the desk and put his back to the people he loved and left.

 

________________________________________________

 

Abby turned to them as soon as the elevators shut behind Gibbs. Mascara rolled down her face carried on angry tears. “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? You can’t let him leave. Go after him! Bring him back!”

“This is neither his decision nor ours. We cannot undo this. It is as it must be.” Ziva tried to remain calm.

“That’s crap. How can you say that? You three let this happen. Where were all of you when Groves was hitting him with a stick? At least Tony has something to show for it,” indicating the blossoming bruise, “Where were you two!?”

The color drained from McGee’s face and even Ziva looked ashen under her olive skin.

“Abby, you can’t blame them for this. This could have been any one of us.” Tony tried to reason with her.

“No. How many times has he been there for you, for me? And you weren’t there, and I wasn’t there.” The last was choked out around a torrent of sobs. She desperately needed Gibbs to make this pain go away but he wasn’t coming back, she wasn’t going to see him every day. Abby sobbed harder and Tony carefully enfolded her in the embrace of his arms.

“Abby, you can’t make this harder on the Bossman than it already is. If he could he’d watch our six to hell and back but he can’t and that’s gotta hit where it hurts.”

“Tony is correct. Gibbs is both a warrior and a protector and he will no longer be able to watch over us. We must show him that we’re capable on our own and that he is still a part of this family. We must not abandon him. Semper Fi, yes? Always faithful.” Ziva spoke firmly in the face of Abby’s anger.

Abby shook her head denying what she was hearing. Still unable to come to grips with the fact that Gibbs wouldn’t be there to bring her a Caf-Pow! every day. To ease the day’s hurts with a soft smile and an even softer kiss to her cheek for a job well done. A determined look crossed her face and she vowed to herself to bring him back no matter what.

“Come on Abs I’ll take you home. It’s been a long day.” Tony gently put an arm around her shoulder and guided her out of the bullpen.

Tim turned to Ziva still dazed by Abby’s words. “She’s right. We should have been there. He wouldn’t have taken the wrong turn. He would have protected us.”

“We cannot dwell on these things McGee. There is nothing to be gained by it. Come. Let us take Tony’s advice and go home. These reports can wait until tomorrow."


	4. Chapter 4

The day of Gibbs’ surgery dawned bright. He had scheduled it for 0700 which meant he had to be at the hospital by 0530 for the pre-surgery preparations. Never one to balk at early hours Gibbs was up at 0400 and was, for once, glad that he slept on the sofa. After the past two days the thought of climbing the stairs to the bedroom had seemed too daunting.

Briefly showering in the downstairs shower he admired the coloring in his knee under the harsh bathroom lights. The joint was still fairly swollen and had been overcome by a sickly purple hue that faded out to greens and yellows at the edges. Sighing he carefully climbed out of the shower watching his footing on the slippery floor before dressing in a pair of sweatpants and a warm USMC hoodie. Both were splattered with paint and varnish stains but he wasn’t looking to impress anyone at the hospital and the sweatpants were easy to slide on.

The same could be said for the pair of slides that he dug out of his sports bag. The Adidas sandals weren’t something Gibbs normally wore but his inability to bend over and tie shoelaces posed a problem and he was damned if he was going to ask Ducky to do it for him. So he slid on the massaging flip flops with ease before hobbling to the kitchen to put coffee on before remembering he wasn’t supposed to consume anything.

At 0430 Ducky bustled into the kitchen and collected his caffeine deprived charge ushering him off to the car. Scooping up the overnight bag Gibbs had prepared Ducky turned to lock the front door. The metal of the lock groaned from disuse and eventually the doctor gave up trying to slide the bolt home. One of the team could stop by and Gibbs would be home later that day if all things went to plan.

At the hospital the nurse got Gibbs settled and asked him questions before pestering him into a hospital gown. Reluctantly the agent watched his clothing go into a giant plastic Ziploc bag as his butt was left hanging in the breeze. More questions and eventually a sharpie marking on his leg to indicate the leg and type of surgery he was having and he was left alone.

He heard them before he could see them.

“I think he’s asleep.” Tony.

“We should come back later.” Tim.

“He’s going to surgery in 15 minutes. We won’t get to see him if we leave.” Abby.

“We can sit and wait.” Ziva.

“You know when you talk that loudly it could wake the dead.” Four sheepish grins and a tandem of ‘yes boss’ went around the room.

Abby piped in first, “how are you feeling Gibbs?”

“Fine.”

“Is your nurse hot?”

“TONY!” Ziva and Abby both looked affronted but the corner of Gibbs’ mouth tugged up into a smile.

“My nurse is a guy.”

“They totally ripped you off Boss. If you’re going to have surgery the best way to wake up is to a pair of,” Tony’s gesture indicating a large pair of breasts was cut off when Ziva and Abby simultaneously reached up and slapped him on the back of the head.

Gibbs laughed outright a single amused huff of breath. “You’re going to have to learn to keep him in line.”

The mood in the room turned somber as they all contemplated those words. “No.” Abby’s denial rang out. “You’re coming back. We won’t have to keep him in line for long without you.”

Gibbs looked away but was saved by the arrival of a rather brawny nurse. “Okay Gunny you’re up. We’re going to have to clear the room.”

Abby shuffled up to him and kissed his temple. Tim gave him a confident wish of good luck and Ziva squeezed his hand. Tony dropped a firm pat on his shoulder and said seriously “everything will be fine. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

Gibbs nodded as the room cleared and the sedatives began to take a hold.

 

________________________________________________

 

Gibbs hated waking up in hospitals. The feeling of his spinning head always reminded him of the line “Stop the world, I want to get off!”

He wasn’t one for weakness with an audience either. So when the anesthesia made him nauseous, like it always did, he sat bolt upright scanning wildly for an emesis basin and was thankful Ducky was the only one in the room.

Ducky had seen Gibbs come out anesthesia before and was ready with the kidney shaped bowl. Giving his friend space Ducky stood and grabbed the small cup of ice chips from the far counter allowing Gibbs time to regain his composure after the sounds of retching ceased.

“Thank you,” the prone mane said as he reached for the cup to help calm his abused throat. He was glad to have gotten the initial bout of vomiting over with which allowed his stomach to settle in to some semblance of good behavior. Unfortunately the motion had caused his knee to flare up with pain.

“You’re quite welcome Jethro. How are you feeling, if I might ask.”

“Glad no one else was in the room.” The thought of his team seeing him lose his proverbial lunch almost sent him into heaves again but he swallowed thickly and continued, “How’d it go?” He leaned back against the pillows as Ducky thoughtfully raised the head of the bed. Another thing to hate about hospitals, he mused, the constant position of vulnerability made him more uneasy than he’d care to admit.

“The surgery went well. They removed a portion of your hamstring to replace the damaged tendons. There is some minor swelling around the wound that is to be expected.”

Gibbs grimaced as he pulled the sheet back from over his knee. The wound looked angry with caked blood and the remains of Betadine trailing along the pair of incisions one of which was nearly five inches long. In addition to that the amount of swelling and bruising on his leg promised to be spectacular in a few hours.

“They did have to make much larger incisions than normal due to the excessive amount of scar tissue already in the area from your previous surgeries on the site. The surgeon was able to clean up some of that while he was replacing the tendons so it should actually help with your mobility once you’re up on your feet again.”

“Great. I’m sure my boat will appreciate how much my knee can bend.”

Ducky shook his head but knew better than to argue with the sarcasm. He knew that even if his friend didn’t realize it Gibbs was, on some level, mourning the loss of his job. The problem with Gibbs and the five stages of grief was that he skipped most of them and focused all his energy on anger and depression without ever getting to acceptance. It would take the whole team to get him through this, the part-time psychologist mused. Aloud he merely said, “most certainly. The doctor will be in momentarily to issue your brace and instructions. You should be released in a few hours once all the anesthetic is out of your system.”

A nod was the only response.

“Your team is sitting outside waiting.”

“They’re not my team anymore.” Sadness pooled in the blue eyes.

“None the less, they have been waiting for two and a half hours to ensure you made it safely through your surgery. I doubt they agree with your sentiment of not being your team but that is for you to argue with them, not I. Should I send them in?”

Again, a nod was the only response. Gibbs didn’t even meet Ducky’s eyes. As the medical examiner stepped out of the room to collect everyone Gibbs took a deep breath and centered himself. The breathing was like the winch on a drawbridge, it drew his public mask into place and slammed it home leaving no chance that anyone would cross the moat.

They filed in sedately and took in the scene. Gibbs sitting up, alert but still pale from his previous bout with the emesis basin, his silvery hair was plastered to his forehead where the bright hot lights of the operating room had caused him to sweat during the surgery. His knee, still carelessly exposed looked like humpty dumpty with the tape and the stitching scrawling across its surface.

“Doesn’t look like fun Boss.” DiNozzo indicated the patchwork skin.

Gibbs flipped the thin hospital sheet over the offending limb protectively. “It’s fine.”

The senior field agent sucked in a breath through his teeth and rocked back on his heels wondering if there was anything worse he could have said right when he walked into the room. Ziva glared daggers through him.

“You look well Gibbs. Ducky said the doctor would be here shortly to discuss discharging you in a few hours.” A nod. “Perhaps we could come visit you when you are settled. We do not wish to disturb you but merely wanted to make sure you are okay.”

“I’m fine.”

There was no use hovering over him, she could see that clearly. Still, she could not resist when he looked so forlorn. She covered the distance in two powerful strides and was by his side before he realized what had happened. Still groggy from having woken up less than five minutes ago he barely reacted as she pushed his hair back from his forehead and dropped a kiss on his brow. “Then we shall visit you tomorrow evening to ensure you stay that way.”

Tony and Tim trailed after her in shock not believing the bold move of their teammate. Gibbs shut his eyes and savored the small touch of kindness. He would normally never have allowed it but his head was still swimming, although it seemed to have calmed down considerably at the cool touch of Ziva’s hand on his forehead.

His thoughts were broken by the brisk arrival of the doctor and he struggled to shift his focus to the abrupt young man that seemed to fill up the room. “Agent Gibbs, I know you’ve been down the knee injury road before so I’ll keep this simple. I’m going to issue you a set of crutches, a knee brace and a cooling canister. You put the brace on and leave it there twenty-four-seven. Lock it in the straight position when you’re up and walking but leave it free to swing through whatever range of motion you can get out of the knee. There won’t be much at the moment. Only bear as much weight on it so that you’re not in pain. I know you Marine types define ‘pain’ differently than most people so I’ll make it clear, anything that a few Advil won’t fix and it’s past where I want you. At least until you’re back here in 10 days for your first physio appointment.

“Use the cooling canister as necessary to help reduce swelling. It’s pretty easy to use, you put ice and a bit of water in the thermos and then plug it into the wrap that you wrap around your knee. It’ll circulate the cold water through the wrap and help with pain and swelling. No immersing the incisions in water for the first 72 hours, that means no showers no baths. Keep it elevated as much as you can. We’ll see you back here in 10 days.” Gibbs nodded his agreement and two hours later with a list of post-operative rules and reminders in hand Ducky freed him from the hospital.


	5. Chapter 5

Limping slowly in his front door Gibbs was glad to be home but more than a little unhappy due to the ban on showering. He could smell the hospital on himself. Crutching his way to the downstairs bathroom he was determined to do the best he could. Shucking the tee shirt and hoodie he had worn to the hospital he leaned against the vanity and turned the water on hot. Soaking a washcloth he lathered up the fabric with a bar of soap and washed his entire upper body. Wringing out the cloth he rinsed and dried as best as possible. Then leaving the water running he dunked his head under the faucet and washed away the salty taste of his own sweat by shampooing and rinsing under the tap.

Satisfied he was at least a little cleaner he made his way out of the bathroom where Ducky stood holding a clean set of clothing. “I thought you might want these when you were done.” Gibbs nodded in agreement and took the fresh set of athletic shorts and the well worn long sleeved tee shirt back to the bathroom.

Changing made him feel much better than he had just twenty minutes before when he walked into the house. Gibbs slowly made his way to the sofa where he laid back and carefully propped up his leg. Ducky took in the scene with satisfaction. Gibbs may not have been known as the best patient in the world but he seemed to be behaving himself for the moment. “I’ve set your medicine by the sink in the kitchen, there’s a pain killer there and an anti-inflammatory. Both are to be taken with a full meal twice a day. Please do take them Jethro.” This garnered no response but a silent stare. However, since one was not genuinely expected by the good doctor this result didn’t deter him. “Taking them will help you ensure proper healing by allowing you to get the rest you need. Are you sure you’ll be fine?”

“I’ll be okay Duck, I’m a grown man and I’ve done this before. I’ll probably just sleep on the sofa for today.”

Wary of the quick agreement Ducky eyed the man prone on the sofa. His drooping eyes spoke of exhaustion due to the trip from the hospital and the subsequent effort of changing clothing. It looked like even if Gibbs wanted to disobey doctors orders it wasn’t going to be today. On top of which, bodies were literally piling up in Autopsy. Alas, death waited for no man. “Very well then. Young Anthony will be by after he completes his duties and has been provided with instructions to feed you. I’ll return to check on you tomorrow.”

“Night.” A brief wave of his hand dismissed his friend and the ME carefully closed the front door behind him. Despite his best intentions of disobeying doctors orders and going down to the basement to work on his latest project Gibbs drifted off to sleep on the sofa.

 

________________________________________________

 

He was awoken a few hours later by the sound of dishes crashing into each other. “DiNozzo!”

A head popped out of the kitchen. “Hey Boss, sorry did I wake you up? How’d you know it was me?”

“What the hell are you doing in there.” Gibbs attempted to sit up and swing his legs around eliciting a sharp hiss from between his clenched teeth. He had forgotten about his knee. Luckily, he mused bitterly, it was there to remind him. He settled for sitting up and moving the pillow from the back of the sofa to the side to prop himself up against.

DiNozzo almost had to physically restrain himself from rushing to his bosses side when he heard the grunt of pain. He knew Gibbs wouldn’t appreciate it so he plowed ahead as if he hadn’t noticed. “Making pasta. I am Italian after all.”

“I noticed. What are you doing in my kitchen?”

“Ducky figured I could come over and keep you amused tonight.”

“I don’t need amusement DiNozzo. I need to be left alone.”

“That’s a pretty antisocial attitude you got there Boss. What would the head shrinkers say about that one? Plus this means I get to cook. Cooking for one just isn’t worth it, too many leftovers. Plus I made Grandma DiNozzo’s bolognaise. It’s to die for with some homemade garlic bread it’ll be perfect. I made the bread at home and stuck it in the oven with some butter and garlic. Everything should be done in about five minutes.”

Gibbs’ stomach rumbled. Glaring at the space where his senior field agent had been standing before he spun around to go back to tending his garlic bread, Gibbs refused to give in to the sensation of hunger. Instead he slowly leveraged himself to upright and followed DiNozzo into the kitchen. “You can tell Ducky I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I’m not here to babysit Boss I’m here to amuse”

“Don’t call me that.” The growl was low in the older man’s throat.

“What?”

“Boss.”

For the first time since awakening Gibbs felt bad for his words. The look of sadness that filtered through Tony’s normally goofy public mask was almost enough to make Gibbs regret his words. Almost. If he backed down now they would pester him with their pity and never leave him a moment’s respite. He had to nip this in the bud.

“Do not call me Boss. I am not your boss and won’t be anyone else’s boss again. So let it go.” He turned as gracefully as possible on the unwieldy crutches and moved off towards the bathroom leaving DiNozzo with a lost look on his face.


	6. Chapter 6

Dinner the night before had been awkward. After his angry outburst DiNozzo looked like a kicked puppy the rest of the evening. As much as Gibbs’ carefully cultivated reputation as a bastard held him in good stead over the years he didn’t actually enjoy making his team unhappy. His team. He couldn’t even get himself to stop thinking it, how would he get them to accept it.

In disgust he slowly maneuvered himself into the kitchen. The sun was bright but still fairly low in the sky. Even anti-inflammatory and pain meds couldn’t keep Gibbs in bed, or on the sofa, later than six am. He carefully prepared his first cup of coffee for the day and stared out the window.

Setting down the warm mug he managed to sort out a bowl of cereal and ate it with his hip propped against the counter. Years of knee injuries taught him that it was really getting up and sitting down that was to be avoided. Once you were prone or vertical it wasn’t too bad. So he stood while he stared out the back window overlooking his lawn and ate his breakfast.

Finished with that task he was a little at a loss for what to do with himself. He felt fine as long as he didn’t put too much weight on his leg. He couldn’t fathom sitting on his ass all day, that just wasn’t in his personality. Decision made he gulped the last of the coffee from the bottom of his mug and efficiently washed his dishes placing them in the dish drain.

Turning he slowly made his way to the basement door. Staring down the stairs he took a deep breath and placed both crutches in his left hand, his right firmly secured to the handrail. Twelve steps to the landing and he spun on his left for the last six. Unfortunately his right heel with the knee locked out straight by his brace caught a nail in the edge of the stair and overbalanced him. The crutches were immediately dropped clattering to the floor making an almighty ruckus. His right hand managed to snag the rail and he caught his balance but not without consequences.

Gibbs’ right foot planted itself firmly on the third stair from the bottom and Gibbs felt something pop, a tiny tear. Slowly taking the last few steps to the ground he managed to sit back on the stairs with his leg stretched in front of him. Just below the hem of his mesh shorts framed by the sturdy brace was a well of blood. Just as he had thought, two stitches torn out of place. He thought of calling Ducky but the earful he knew he’d earned wasn’t something he was willing to subject himself to at the moment.

Collecting the crutches he made his way over to his bench and shook out the cleanest of his rags. He jammed it against the portion of the incision weeping blood and secured it by tying a second rag to the brace. Looking at the lumber on hand and his mostly empty work space he decided to rummage through some of his plans and see what he could salvage from the day.

 

________________________________________________

 

Hours later his stomach rumbled and he was startled from concentrating on the measurement he was taking by the sound of his front door opening and closing. Ducky was probably here. The sound of his name being called in a faint Scottish accent was enough to seal the identity of his visitor. Gibbs sighed caught red handed.

“Jethro, are you down there?”

“Yeah Duck.”

Disappointment tinged the response, “you were told not to do anything strenuous until your physical therapy began.”

“Just standing here.” Which could be seen as the ME’s head finally popped into view above the pair of feet that had entered the basement just seconds earlier.

“Have you been on your feet all day?”

“What time is it?”

“Nearly three thirty.” Shrug. “Have you iced it at all?” Gibbs just turned back to his work. “Jethro you need to take care of yourself. Come upstairs I’ve brought dinner.”

Sighing Gibbs gave in to his friend’s request and turned to come up the stairs snagging his crutches as he turned.

“What did you do?”

Shit, he thought as he looked down at the torn shirts tied to his brace. He had forgotten about it. His entire knee had been throbbing for a while. There was enough bourbon in the basement to keep him through a nuclear winter and he had put in a small bathroom years ago which usually eliminated all need to go upstairs when he was working. His pain meds were upstairs and he hadn’t wanted to drag himself up there just for that so he had been stubbornly ignoring the offending appendage for the last few hours.

Shaking his head Ducky replied, “Come upstairs I’ll get my bag.”

In the amount of time it took Gibbs to get up the stairs Ducky had managed to get out to his car and back. He had also set a pot of coffee on in the kitchen. Gibbs moved towards the noise and smell of percolating coffee.

“No, no sit on the sofa. I’ll bring the coffee and your medication in to you and we’ll see what damage you’ve done today.” Gibbs changed directions knowing that arguing wouldn’t improve Ducky’s mood toward him. Ducky noisily moved around the kitchen appearing ten minutes later to deposit a sandwich and medication on the low coffee table. A few more trips and a warm mug of coffee as well as a full glass of water sat on the table next to Gibbs’s ice pack and Ducky’s medical supplies.

“Eat first then we’ll sort you out.”

The rumble in his stomach precluded arguing and Gibbs cleaned his plate in no time. He identified and took the anti-inflammatory but refused the pain medication. “It makes me too drowsy Duck.”

“Good. Then you can’t go traipsing down to the basement doing Lord knows what to your knee and thinking this,” he gestured to the rudimentary first aid, “is sufficient rather than contacting me. Take the pill Jethro.”

Gibbs just crossed his arms over his chest and glared.

“I can have you re-admitted to the hospital on the grounds that you can’t take care of yourself. Or I can hire a nurse to come and stay with you. Is refusing this worth either of those.”

Gibbs continued to glare, never having been a man to back down easily.

Sensing stubbornness wasn’t the only cause Ducky made an enquiry no one else on the team would have been willing to make. “How much alcohol have you consumed today?”

The glare softened. “Probably more than I should if I’m going to take that.” The labels had said not to mix with alcohol so he had skipped the pills and stuck to the bourbon.

Ducky sighed his disapproval and scooped up the lonely pill from the plate. “Tomorrow morning, once the alcohol is clear of your system you can take one of these. Let’s see what damage you’ve done.”

Gibbs carefully pushed the plate aside and lifted his leg so his foot was just off the far edge of the table and his knee was supported from underneath on a cushion. Ducky tutted as he worked on cleaning the incision site and replacing the two stitches that had torn through the skin at the top of the large incision. His work completed he set up the small cooler and started the cold water circulating through the brace and around the incision site.

“I’ll return tomorrow Jethro. I expect all of my stitches to be in place. Leave the cold water on for the next hour. This will all work out Jethro. And you have the help from your team and myself should you require it.”

Gibbs steadfastly ignored the last comment and tilted his head back against the fraying sofa. Ducky understood the silent communication and let himself out.


	7. Chapter 7

Gibbs waited unhappily for Ducky to arrive and ran a hand over the scratchy beard that had formed in the last week.

Over the course of that week everyone from his team, his former team he reminded himself sternly, had visited at some point. Ziva had brought groceries and cooked. Tim and Tony had stopped by and set up a new television and DVD player that Gibbs still hadn’t figured out how to work on his own. Even Ducky had dropped by every day to gently nudge him in the direction of the required anti-inflammatory.

Abby’s visits had been painful though. The young Goth girl had brought whirlwind of energy and anecdotes. Tales from NCIS over the last week, filling him in as if he would be back when this was all over. Every time she talked about him coming down to her lab he got a pang in his chest. Not that he was willing to admit it out loud but he missed his team. Abby’s incessant chatter, Ziva’s mispronunciation and misinterpretation of American slang, Tim’s self help tapes and Tony’s endless teasing. He missed it all and every time Abby reminded him it was like pouring salt in a wound. So he nodded and reassured her even though it tore at him every time.

Today though, Ducky had deemed him recovered enough from the initial surgery to try his hand at his first PT session. Gibbs was normally the type of person that threw himself into physical therapy and rehab if only to be done with it sooner and be back to what he considered his real job. However, this time there was nothing at the end of the tunnel for him to drive towards. Even if this knee injury hadn’t come along he was only nine months out from the mandatory field agent retirement limit. Like the FBI, NCIS caped the service of its field agents at 55 years old. The rehab on his knee was supposed to take three months. There was no point in making the team, or himself, go through this twice. So here he was waiting for a ride from his oldest friend headed off to a destination he only wanted to ignore.

 

________________________________________________ 

 

At NCIS the mood wasn’t any better. The first week hadn’t been bad, Tony could pretend that Gibbs was on leave, even though he couldn’t remember the older ever having taken a sick day or leave in the last 9 years he’d worked with him. However, staring at the desk still strewn with the remnants of the Greaves case Tony felt a physical ache in his chest. Vance had scheduled a meeting with him for 10 am. Tony was pretty sure he knew what it would be about.

Two hours later and 10 am had arrived. Tony went to Vance’s office like he was walking to the gallows. His slow measured steps moving towards certain doom. He paused open the door and greeted Cynthia.

“Director Vance will see you now.”

“He pushed open the aluminum door, “Tony, welcome have a seat. The Italian man obeyed and sat in front of the large desk that dominated the space in front of the bank of windows. “Good morning Director.”

“I’m going to cut to the chase. As you know Gibbs is going to take his retirement after his medical leave is up. Based on his recommendation and your past performance I’m going to make you the head of MCRT. You’ll have McGee and Ziva available to you as they will remain on the team, at least for now. You’ll have to pick up a fourth to fill in the gap in the team. I’ve got a stack of files, about five new probationary officers that would make a good fit on the team. You’ve earned this Tony congratulations.”

Tony shook his hand and accepted the files. “Thank you Sir.” There was nothing else he could say. He may have been proud that he earned the position but this wasn’t how he wanted to do it.

Just as ponderously he made his way back down to his teammates and dropped the files onto his desk.

Ever eager McGee piped in from his desk. “New case?”.

“Nope. New probies.”

Ziva looked up at that. “Another temporary agent? How long will this one be with us?”

“This one’s for real Ziva. We’re accepting another member onto the team. With Gibbs retiring they made me the boss.” He shrugged helplessly still not sure how to come to terms with the conflict roiling in the back of his mind. One side of him was doing jumping air guitar singing routine in excitement over getting chosen, and more importantly recommended by Gibbs, to head up MCRT. The other side of his brain was frozen in shock and fear at the reality that Gibbs really wasn’t returning and that he wouldn’t have Gibbs’ gut to rely on.

“Congratulations.” Ziva stood from her desk and approached his holding out her hand for him to shake. “We should take you out to celebrate tonight.” She offered up her brightest smile.

“Yeah Tony you earned this one, eight o’clock tonight at Duffy’s.” chimed in McGee. “Good luck telling Abby though.”

His teammates easy acceptance had loosened a knot in his chest that he hadn’t even known was there. Somewhere in the back of his head he was sure they would blame him for Gibbs not returning, or taking his place. Their support was like a balm on that open wound. However, he muttered a curse word after accepting his teammates good wishes. Abby. How he was going to tell her was still a mystery even to himself.

 

________________________________________________

 

After lunch Tony made the walk down to forensics. From the elevator door he was immediately assaulted with the sounds of loud angry bass drum beats thumping out their deep, throaty rhythms.

“Hey Abs.”

The young Goth woman turned with more agility than Tony would have thought possible in three inch black stilettos and wrapped her arms around his neck. He offered her the Caf-Pow in his hand after she backed away enough to allow him to breathe. She set it carefully on her desk with a thank you.

“What brings you to the wonderful world of Forensics Tony? New evidence in the Meyers case?”

The case she was referring to was the first one MCRT had taken since Gibbs leave was effective. They had been toiling away on cold cases until the day before when Vance finally needed to take them off the bench before the other teams were buried under a mountain of new cases.

“No new evidence. I still think it was the girlfriend.”

“Tony, you always think it’s the girlfriend.” She playfully swatted his arm and smiled. The Agent in question returned a half hearted smile. “So why’d you come down.”

“I wanted to see if you wanted to go out with Tim, Ziva and I tonight. Eight O’clock, Duffy’s”

“Sure! I haven’t been out with you guys in forever!” She bounced slightly on the balls of her feet and asked the question Tony had been hoping to avoid. “Are we celebrating something?! We’re always celebrating something when we go to Duffy’s.”

“I got a promotion. MCRT lead.” He tried to smile but the lopsided grin fell short.

“I think I’m busy tonight.” Abby’s demeanor clouded over faster than a summer storm rolling in.

Tony tried to think of something to say but couldn’t defend himself. She turned her back on him and started typing viciously on her keyboard. He knew she felt betrayed but he couldn’t figure out how to fix it. He turned and walked away and as he was almost out of the door he heard a dull thud, like the sound a full Styrofoam cup makes when it hits the bottom of a garbage can.


	8. Chapter 8

Gibbs was wrung out. The exercises hadn’t been all that hard on the surface but the range of motion exercises had him sweating inside of five minutes. The pain of trying to bend his swollen joint had him wincing from the get go.

It didn’t help that his PT instructor was a perpetually perky former drill instructor named Allison ‘you can call me Ali’ Olsen. Her upbeat attitude grated on him and had him desperately hoping for the hour to go by faster. He could practically hear the exclamation points at the end of every one of her sentences.

“That was great Agent Gibbs! Your range of motion is really great for only being ten days out of surgery!” She smiled at him from where they were both seated on the floor mat. “Next time we’ll continue to work on range of motion. We’ll wait for more of the swelling to subside before we try the tough stuff. I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it! I checked out your medical history and it looks like you’re a pro at this!”

Gibbs grunted in return and looked up to find his knight in shining armor. Ducky was walking around the edge of the desk. “My ride.” He made a move to get ponderously to his feet and flushed red when Ali put an arm under his shoulder to help him up. He shrugged it off as soon as possible. The idea that he needed help from a woman who was barely eye level with his chest rankled. 

“Jethro, done for the day?” A nod.

Ali bounded up with them to the front desk. “Margie, can you please schedule Agent Gibbs for three days from now. Gibbs I need you to ice that as soon as you get home. Then continue for the next couple of hours 30 minutes on 30 minutes off with the ice. Don’t forget your pain meds and anti-inflammatory. See you on Friday!”

Following his friend out of the building Gibbs made a bee-line for the car and eased himself in supporting the aching limb with a hand beneath the thigh. 

“Did you enjoy your physical therapy?” A glare. “Well if you’re feeling up to it Anthony has invited you out to Duffy’s this evening.” A glare, then a sigh.

“So Vance made it official?”

“Yes. This morning.”

“I’ll think about it. I’m wiped.” Gibbs hated admitting how much even the short PT session had taken out of him but it was preferable to dragging himself out to the bar. He wasn’t exactly in the mood for socializing.

“I believe Abigail isn’t taking it well but the rest of the team seems to be very supportive. They’ve taken their first case yesterday. I do believe Anthony is rather nervous about it.” Ducky was hedging but Gibbs could read between the lines.

“Fine, pick me up.” The damage being to his right leg Gibbs hadn’t yet regained the fine motor skills, or the ability to keep his leg bent for long periods of time so that he could drive.

“Excellent. I’m sure everyone will be delighted to see you.”

________________________________________________

After Ducky left and a hot shower Gibbs sat tiredly on the sofa nursing a cup of tea waiting for seven thirty to roll around and Ducky to come back and retrieve him. However his silence was interrupted at seven o’clock when Abby came bursting through his door. He stuck the dust jacket between the pages to serve as a temporary book mark and looked up at the tornado that swept across his living room.

“How could they do this Gibbs!? HOW?” She was practically yelling. “They’re just writing you off!”

He sighed. He knew this would happen. Vance had spoken to him four days ago about his recommendations for the lead on the MCRT team. He had, without hesitation, put DiNozzo’s name in the hat. The night before Vance had called to let him know he would be giving the Italian the Senior Field Agent position. So Gibbs had expected a call at some point just not from an obviously irate Abby.

“Abby, we’ve talked about this. I’ve told you I can’t go back to work at NCIS.”

“But I didn’t think you meant it.” She was practically sobbing as she curled in a ball against him on his sofa and let him wrap his arm around her. 

“Abby, look at me. I’m pushing fifty five and I’m not going to be on my feet any time soon. Do you really think Vance could have put the team on hold indefinitely? This was going to happen sometime.”

“He should have put it on hold for you. It’s different.”

“I wish it was Abs. Trust me but this is how it all panned out.” He stroked the crown of her dark hair where her head rested against his chest.

“But I miss you.” It was almost to soft for him to hear and it pulled at his heart. He once again cursed himself for allowing to get hurt, for letting it hurt Abby.

“I’m sorry Abby.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s a sign of weakness.”

“Not with family.” He shifted so he could look at her face more. “Abby, you have to give DiNozzo a break. None of this is his fault and he loves you like a sister. You can’t make this hard for him. He earned this.”

She sniffed into his shoulder. “Okay.”

“Good. Now call Ducky and tell him I don’t need a ride. We’re both going to Duffy’s.”

“But Tony’s going to be mad at me. I was awful to him.”

“You’re family. Say you’re sorry. He’ll understand.”

________________________________________________

DiNozzo was situated in a corner booth with Tim, Ziva, Ducky and Brina. Palmer had gone up to the bar to get pitchers of beer. His jaw nearly hit the floor when Abby proceeded Gibbs into the bar. Even from across the room Tony could see the set of Gibbs’ jaw as Abby held the door for him, but a deep breath later and the tension slid away.

As the pair approached the group re-shuffled themselves to make room for the new comers. “Boss. I didn’t know you were coming.”

Gibbs let the familiar term slide by. “I didn’t either but Abby came to get me.”

The Goth in question wrapped her arms around Tony’s neck from across the table practically dragging him out of his seat in the process. “Sorry Tony. I’m really proud of you.” Despite his near strangulation DiNozzo smiled. Over Abby’s shoulder he saw the corner of Gibbs mouth quirk.

Gibbs slid something across the table at Tony as soon as he was freed from Abby’s grip. Instinctively he caught it and held it up to the light. A folding knife with the inscription “Rule #1:” etched into the grip. DiNozzo looked up questioningly. “Time to make your own rules DiNozzo. Congratulations.” Tony broke out a responsive 100 megawatt grin.


End file.
